


Tie My Heart Up in Knots

by sablier_bloque



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sablier_bloque/pseuds/sablier_bloque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a diner on Christmas Day, Dean flirts; Sam is jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tie My Heart Up in Knots

**Author's Note:**

> Cliché and contrived, but this is for nachekana, and this is what she wanted. Betaed by autumn_lilacs.

Sam and Dean have a tradition every Christmas. It has nothing to do with sentimentality or chick flick moments. It has everything to do with the fact that no matter where they are in the country, there’s bound to be a Denny’s open on Christmas Day.

This year is no different. Sam sits across from his brother in a Denny’s in Lake Wales, Florida with a greasy menu in hand. They both look a little worse for wear – a rough hunt with the spirit of a Seminole Indian wreaking havoc on the town has left them bruised and battered. Dean’s got a nasty gash above his eyebrow that he keeps touching and a hiss escapes his lips every time he does so.

“Dude, stop touching it,” Sam says, and Dean kicks his leg as a nonverbal reply of _fuck you_.

Okay, so it’s not their best Christmas. Dean won’t stop whining that they got stuck in Florida during this time of year and “What’s Christmas without snow, Sammy?” They’re running low on cash, and there isn’t even a decent bar in this town where they can hustle.

So Sam's moody – Dean has been accusing him of “bitch face” for the past three days. He keeps trying to tell himself, _it's Christmas, be happy_ , but it just doesn't feel like it. The apocalypse seems to be at a lull, but with Lucifer still running free and angels still scouring the earth for a certain pair of brothers, it’s hard to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year.

Another Winchester Holiday Tradition is Sam watching the always-flirtatious Dean flirt the pants off (usually literally) of every single female who helps them out on Christmas Day. Waitress, motel desk clerk, maid. If they have a vagina, Dean’s laying on the charm even heavier than usual. _”We don’t even work on Christmas, Sam. Why should these poor ladies have to?_

Except, well, things are different this year because _Sam and Dean_ are different. It’s been four months since they’ve started this thing they never, ever talk about – frantic, needy touches in the dark, slide of lips and tongue and skin, becoming completely and unchangeably tangled with one another. Not only does Sam know how Dean received every scar on his body, but he also knows what they feel like under his fingertips, knows the friction of rough, puckered flesh against his mouth.

So when Leah – the best-looking girl they’ve seen since they stepped foot in this town – walks up to them with a genuine, sweet smile, he expects Dean to return it and go back to looking at the menu. Dean looks up slowly though, and his eyes trail up and down her petite frame, gaze lingering on the way her Wranglers are painted on her hips. His lips curve lazily, his eyes become hooded as they reach her face and he’s got _fucked-out bliss_ written all over his posture.

“Hey, darlin’,” Dean says, silky smooth timbre to his voice.

“Hi,” she replies, quickly looking at Sam as if she’d forgotten he was sitting there. She’s pretty, yeah, but she looks like a no nonsense kind of girl, the type that gets hit on often and never, ever puts up with it.

“You boys having a good Christmas?” she asks, looking steadily at Dean, and Sam can’t believe it. She’s falling for Dean hook, line, and sinker.

“We are now,” Dean says with a wink, and Sam shouldn’t… he shouldn’t take it personally. This is what his brother has always done. They order, Sam his usual breakfast, and Dean the Christmas special because sweet Leah absolutely insists that he tries it.

Dean keeps asking him what the hell is wrong and says, “It’s Christmas, bro, lighten the fuck up.” And Sam’s trying to keep his annoyance, and okay… trying to keep his _jealousy_ in check. And he does pretty well until dinner’s over and she hands them separate tickets, with her number written on the one she hands Dean.

Dean smiles at her, pearly white teeth shining, and she wishes them a Merry Christmas and Dear God, even says, “Y’all come back and see us.”

They walk out the door and Sam looks to Dean, expecting him to toss her number in the trashcan at the sidewalk, but he tucks it into his back pocket before hopping in the car. AC/DC is blaring when Dean turns on the engine, and Sam is beyond _not_ in the mood and turns it off.

“Hey, dude, you don’t—”

Sam cuts Dean off with a glare, and expects to fight him over the music but Dean just shrugs. They drive to the Monticello Motel that is just a few minutes north on Highway 27. Sam’s out of the car and has a key in the motel room door before Dean has even exited the driver’s side.

“Sam,” Dean says as he finally enters the room, “what the fuck is wrong—”

Sam slams the door behind Dean and presses his brother against the wall.

“I thought we were done with this,” Sam says.

“Done with _what_?” Dean asks, anger making his voice gruffer.

“I thought it was just—I thought this was an exclusive thing.” His voice gets softer and he realizes how much of a girl he sounds right now.

“I don’t even know what you’re talk—“

“Are you still fucking other girls?” Sam asks.

“ _What_?”

“Are you. Still. Fucking. Girls? Or guys too? I don’t even know anymore.”

Dean just looks at him and laughs bitterly.

“What?” Sam asks. “No answer?”

“I don’t think I need to give you an answer,” Dean replies, moving to push Sam off of him, but Sam isn’t budging. “Dude, back off.”

“You aren’t…” Sam doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. “I can’t handle you fucking her.”

“Who?”

“The waitress, jackass.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam, I can’t believe—“

Sam cuts him off, pressing his lips forcefully against Dean’s, giving into this weird, animalistic desire to claim, to mark, to show the whole, damn world that Dean is _his_. Dean is fighting it with his hands, but his mouth? His mouth seems to be enjoying every second of it, giving back exactly what Sam is giving him. Tongues moving, teeth scraping, bodies scrabbling for dominance. Sam rolls his hips against his brothers and fiery pleasure spikes through his veins as his cock brushes against Dean’s growing erection.

“Yeah,” Sam whispers, and grabs Dean by the collar of his shirt. “Feel that?” He moves his hips again. “Want you so bad.” Dean looks like he’s going to say something, but Sam just doesn’t want to hear it. He kisses Dean again, his hands shaking as his fingers unbutton Dean’s shirt. Sam slides the shirt off of Dean’s shoulders and tugs Dean’s undershirt over his head.

Dean pushes him forward a bit, moving them toward the bed, but their reflection in the mirror above the dresser catches Sam’s eye. He stops and grins at Dean.

“What?” Dean asks. Sam backs him up against the dresser and twists him around so that Sam’s dick presses against Dean’s ass. He watches Dean look at himself in the mirror and then at Sam with questioning eyes.

“You a narcissist now, Sammy?” Dean asks, cocky little grin on his face that Sam erases by palming Dean’s cock through his jeans.

“Just want you to see,” he says against Dean’s neck, his tongue licking at his brother’s pulse point. He wants Dean to see how they look _together_. He wants Dean to see how he falls apart when Sam is fucking him – that no one else makes him that way.

Sam unfastens Dean’s pants and slips his hand into the waistband of Dean’s boxers. He runs his thumb and index finger lightly along Dean’s dick, coming to the head and pressing his thumb against the slit. He watches Dean close his eyes and Sam squeezes his cock.

“Uh-uh, want you to watch,” Sam whispers against Dean’s ear before biting the skin behind it. Dean looks at him in the mirror, “ _What the fuck’s gotten into you?_ ” written all over his face. He pulls down Dean’s jeans and boxers, sees the way Dean’s cock bounces toward his stomach, and Sam brings his lips to his brother’s neck. Sam steps out of his own clothes quickly – not wanting there to be time and distance between them. He immediately wraps one arm around Dean’s torso, their bodies so tight together that not a centimeter of air rests between them.

“I don’t want anyone to have you,” Sam admits, bringing his other hand back to Dean’s dick and stroking it quickly. He sucks a bruise where Dean’s collar and neck meet, and a sharp hiss escapes Dean’s lips. “To have this,” he continues.

Sam wants to fuck him – wants to have Dean in every way, make Dean feel that he’s got Sam written all over him and in him. Sam’s not patient enough to prep him though; and with this hunt, it’s been a few days and Sam can’t just fuck him. Sam keeps tugging on Dean’s dick with his right hand, and takes his own cock with his left, guiding it to the cleft of Dean’s ass and sliding it into the groove.

He closes his eyes briefly at the friction. The pre-come from his slit acts as makeshift lube as he continues to move against Dean. He almost moans every time the head of his cock drags against Dean’s hole. He opens his eyes, sees Dean watching Sam in the mirror, Dean’s bottom lip caught between his teeth as he stares at the way their bodies move together. His skin is flushed. The heater in the room makes sweat pool in the hollow of Dean’s throat and Sam tightens his grip on Dean’s dick.

“You’re so fucking beautiful… _mine_ ” Sam whispers. Dean comes all over Sam’s hand and the dresser, a noise almost like a whimper parting from Dean’s lips. It’s that; the sound of his brother falling apart at Sam’s praise and at his claiming that makes Sam fall right along with him, his cock still slipping in the groove of Dean’s ass as pleasure shoots through his groin.

Sam rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, and a stupid thought enters his head.

“I just realized that I didn’t get you anything for Christmas,” Sam says.

He feels Dean chuckle against him.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I didn’t know that cavemen celebrated Christmas, Sammy,” Dean replies.

Sam looks at Dean through the mirror, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Your whole… _mine_ routine. Thought you were gonna beat me on the head with a club and drag me off to have your way with me or something.”

Sam smirks. “Whatever. You liked it.”

“Right,” Dean replies, rolling his eyes.

Sam sees the bruise he left on Dean’s neck and he kisses it softly. “Mine,” he whispers again. He sees Dean close his eyes and Sam can’t help but smile against his skin.


End file.
